


Tea Party

by Kazanma



Series: IGNITE - Heaven and Hell [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Estrangement, Gen, Heaven & Hell, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Slurs, Symbolism, Tea Parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:54:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27703081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazanma/pseuds/Kazanma
Summary: Kazuto has a small tea party with a familiar face.
Series: IGNITE - Heaven and Hell [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026093
Kudos: 1





	Tea Party

**Author's Note:**

> TW for homophobic slurs. This happens a bit between Chapter 17 and Chapter 20 in OG IGNITE. It's not necessary to understand the whole story.

"Hi, son. Don't you want to talk?" His father, Koutaro Miki, speaks in a soft tone. His words seem to resonate with him, and it makes Kazuto want to get closer to him.

But he stops. Whatever it is, it makes him feel like he has to vomit right now. Or else. Looking at the landscape, he sees a bright field in the middle of a forest. Just like one feels particularly familiar with. But the memory seems to fail him. He doesn't know where it comes from. An image flashes through his mind, but it's almost the same as turning the lights on and leaving the house.

"Young man, is everything okay?" Koutaro speaks again. He doesn't seem angry at all, rather, he's calm. Worried, perhaps. His voice is unshakable, his posture is straight. He doesn't do more than that.

A step forward. The same as hurting himself with the first glass shard he finds. This place is so close to the promised land that he can't bear to look at it. He doesn't deserve this. He can't deserve this. No matter how many people he saves, he cannot, he should not, he must not deserve this. It's Ignis lying to him again. The bastard of the court plays the part of the fool, and that's all he is to Ignis.

And yet. He moves forward, the soft, almost unnoticeable sounds of his steps flow through the grass, slowly. He sees the blue of the sky and is reminded of Takumi's eyes. It still stings to see her body when he pays attention, bloodied and battered, Mayumi Miyo is nothing more than stomach acid inside of him. He gags with the smell of cookies. Nothing appeals to him. Any food will just make him feel sicker.

"I don't... Feel good." His own admission of defeat is that. He has never felt good. It's always a matter of admitting it. He's not like a hero, not like Takumi. He always seemed composed, even when he lost his temper at him for being a fag, he's surely deserving of that. Just like any hero should be doing, throwing away the sissy villain and becoming the figure everyone relies on, while keeping the girl.

The taste of his lips is bitter, salty, even. Kazuto bites on his lips. They hurt, but the pain is simply temporary. Kazuto isn't even worth the effort to kill, he notices. No matter how much he looked for the Council students, he hasn't seen a trace of them anywhere in the school. It sucks, because he could have given Takumi the perfect chance to kill him and be done with this Hero and Villain farce.

His body barely moves to reach the tea table that's too far away from him. Out of his reach. He hears the tea set being lifted, a small clink that accentuates the movement. Kazuto is aware Koutaro is drinking tea, right now. Earl Grey. His father has always been a man of Western taste. 

Why does he know that, though? That Koutaro, the one that's seemingly happy with an American wife, and finished on rather good terms, is so far away it's almost a dreamlike version of the man he knows. Koutaro Miki is, in the way Kazuto remembers, a man that could have been. Broken and silent, he taught him everything, while hiding the pain and the bruises behind a polite smile. No, you're not allowed to complain, Kazuto. This is a good life, after all. You don't want to irritate your father, don't you? Then behave, be a good boy and keep away from other people. You don't want to be tainted, don't you?

He sees both images crack open like a window, and break down. He's looking at another Koutaro, a distinct, dignified version of him. He's baffled that someone like this even exists in the first place. He should be broken, eyes glazing over the surfaces, dead eyes and a dead soul make for a quiet man.

Just. Right in front of him. The tea table, the white, pristine, clean chairs. So similar to the tea party of a doll. And yet, he cannot help but think that he's intruding. He's always an intruder. Never wanted. It's how he feels. Out of place, out of nowhere specific, always messing everything up with his presence. A burden. He's weak enough to depend on others, and even then he's just as easily swayed to their side. Just by hearing a sob story, with a few tears for good measure. Naive, senseless spineless stupid little fag who keeps thinking he can escape his fate.

This is not a respite. This isn't a break. He's here for something else, something entirely different. 

"I've been waiting for you." His father doesn't sound angry. Rather, he seems surprised he looks like hell. But isn't that what Kazuto looks like, most of the day? Why be surprised, after all?

"Hi. You look different." Kazuto doesn't even have the energy to use a witty catchphrase, or whatever real men who are funny are supposed to use in moments like this. He's beyond being fashionably late. He's simply late, like any weak-willed idiot would. 

"And so do you, my son." Koutaro sips from his teacup. The attire he's wearing is not the one he's used to. In fact, it's even more expensive than what he was wearing with that American woman. Far more expensive. It's a three piece suit of purple color, with a rose attached to the breast pocket. He has a cape attached at the end of the neck, the fabric snaking around the field. He leaves the teacup on top of the table, and leans forward to face his son. "Don't you think it's time to finally speak together? No interruptions from anyone. Your mother, nor your father are here. No need to despair over me, Kazuto. I'm willing to listen what you have to say, or talk if you're not willing to do so. The choice is always yours."

"What is there to talk about? You didn't do anything." Kazuto speaks. He doesn't dare to grab a cookie, even after his father makes a gesture to do so. It all feels empty. Dull. Grey. Flavorless. Bland. His body wants him to vomit and die and panic, and yet, he doesn't seem to do anything. It's almost like being in a moratorium. 

His father doesn't change his expression, one of playful surprise. 

"It seems to me like you're hiding a lot of pain, dear flesh of my flesh."

"Shut up. Please. I don't want to begin with that cheesy phrase."

"Ah. So I have caught your attention, then?" Leaning backwards, to where the chair's backrest is, Koutaro stretches his limbs, feeling the exhaustion of being all the time sitting on a chair. "It's such a pity, Kazuto. That you ended up here, and yet you don't want to talk to your father."

"What is there to talk about, even? We haven't spoken like people. You just placated yourself. Hid yourself. I never learned anything from you. I lied about—"

"And yet. And yet you talk like you're angry at me." Koutaro raises his legs on top of the table. Irritating Kazuto further. "I feel sad that I allowed this to happen to my child. Being exposed as a bastard. Someone worthless. It must have hurt, didn't it?"

"Like hell I'll tell you, you puny asshole." Kazuto spits out the truth, angry at his father. There's a fire inside of him. Turns into magma solidifying itself. It doesn't want to leave Kazuto exposed to anything, ever again. "Eat shit. I can't care about you, when all you did was leave me to my own devices. It's your fault that I'm such a—"

"Kazuto. Stop projecting on me. Whatever happened to you, by my hands, I'm already sorry." Koutaro makes a gesture with his hand, forbidding Kazuto from speaking again. "I don't want to hear it."

"Then what do you want to hear from me? That I suck because your own faulty biology made me a bitch male?" Kazuto is becoming angrier with time. He stands up, getting to be tired of everything. Tired of himself and his own naive behaviour, of his own weakness being used against him nine years ago. For being that weak and allowing himself to be raped by men. For still being so fucked up that he has to like men, or else he feels broken, tainted, damaged. "You didn't even care when they did that to me! Why should I care about you, tell me? Huh? What do you want me to say? That I hate how useless you are? Or that I despise the fact that _you_ made me this way? Tell me!"

Immediately as the words come out, he regrets every single one of them.

"Is that what you think of me? A worthless, weak bitch male? Keep your mouth shut if you mean otherwise." Koutaro starts to talk, but quickly ends his sentences. Kazuto feels the need to scream, but is quickly stopped as his father stands up.

"Dad, I didn't—"

"And yet you've said it. I made you weak. You know what? That's true. Feel free to stay in Hell. This is no place for you, after all. Wallow in your own self-pity, for all I care." 

Koutaro tries to leave, but Kazuto stops him trying to grab his cape. Snapping his fingers together, Kazuto disappears in a cloud of butterflies. He's sent away from the tea table, but the distance is short enough to allow for him to listen to Koutaro's words. 

"Listen to me, Kazuto. I wanted to give you the chance to understand why all of this happened. But you're not looking to help yourself. It's alright. Suit yourself. Once three days go by, let's talk like adults. You stopped being a child, Kazuto."

"But—"

"No buts, son. You understand why." Koutaro's face becomes stern, his tone is ice cold. "I felt like I should talk to you, at least. To comfort you. But yeah, sure, feel free to reject my arms. See if I care."

Disappearing in a cloud of rose petals, Koutaro leaves this place. Kazuto tries to reach him, but it becomes apparent that it's useless. He gives up. He doesn't want to try anything else.

Kazuto punches the grass. One, two. One, two, three, four. Blood starts to drip from his fists. He grunts, as his bones crack from the hardness of the surface. He opens his eyes, seeing the small puddles of tears that drop from his face. Kazuto bites his tongue. It hurts even more than what he thought it would.

The place he's in stopped being Heaven a while ago. It's not a field anymore. Kazuto sees a mangled corpse at the corner of his view. Mutilated by the last hellhounds that lived in this place. A body torn in half, blood spilling out like a fallen chalice. 

It's a prison cell for criminals. On the charge of irresponsible use of Capital Sins, Kazuto was sent away to one of those cells. Not even being the alleged son of the Demon King would have helped his case. Between dragging Ignis to his grave, or living alone, Ignis just chose to leave him there, to rot. 

Because of course he would. A man like him doesn't care about his children. It's what he heard from the man before turning into hellhound food.

He just blew up one of his chances to leave this prison. Great. Amazing. He had to scream to him what a bitch he was, to let himself be broken down. But all in all, he can't be mad at his father. Like father, like son. He has to be this way. Naive, petty and impulsive. It's all he knows to do. Not even a good acting bit can take away from his general feeling of helplessness.

All of the things he thinks of himself, all of the words his father says, all of the things he didn't do but believed in, are true. He's not a human. He's a farce. Not even a Villain, as that would imply he's good enough to cause a threat.

He's sure that even Verdant has used him for his own purposes.

Kazuto puts his knees together, and weeps in the darkness of the cell. It's far too cold to sleep anymore.


End file.
